You know, in the midst of this all, I'm still vacationing on the state's dime. One who always enjoys a day off, this is getting ridiculous. In between convincing my parents I can afford their visit, trying to get some christmas shopping done, get the house cleaned, feed the squirrels on my front step and fall in love with a stray cat that took over my yard, and try to get final separation papers from my ex company that I left a secure position for...In the middle of all that, I get a letter from NY Unemployment that I have an appointment to evaluate my claim. Jeez, it's only been a claim for 3 weeks. Have they no criminals of the system to interrogate? For the appointment, today at 1pm (just look at the time I'm writing this, wait...it's gets funny)I'm to produce my resume, fill in this official application which repeats everything that I've got written on my resume ( I believe these people must have stock in the ink business), check off a bunch of boxes that say I am ready, willing and able to work, and then sign and date it.
So, I'm filling all this in as I sit patiently at the local bus stop. In order for me to keep this mandatory appointment I have to take a bus and a subway to travel 7 miles. It will take as long as it took for the first circumnavigation of the globe. Actually, I may be able to beat Magellen's record by a couple of minutes. I signed it. Having no idea what today's date is, I figured to look at the very official looking letter I received demanding an audience with me. Surely, that would have today's date on it.
Wrong.
It had the date of 11 December, 2008. All alone, I had no one to confirm that today wasn't the 11th. I was fairly sure it wasn't the 11th. After all, Marianne's coming round...on the 5th. How could it be the 11th if the 5th hasn't arrived yet, and my peeler is still residing in it's correct nesting spot? One last look across the street, as if the answer to this dilemma of calander dates could be ascertained by looking there, I laughed, cursed out loud, and got up. All I could think was how angry I would have been had the bus already arrived; if I'd filled out those papers on the bus, as I'd originally planned. The idea of repeating Magellen's journey for naught makes me shiver.
When I got back home (it's just a 5 minute walk to the bus stop), the squirrel was still sitting there...mocking me. He said 'make with the peanuts, already...and what are you so dressed up for? Don't you know your mother's coming...??'

The show "Survivorman" will pale in comparison to your real-life drama played out for us as each crisis arrives. Just wait for the nighttime noise that are not normally in your home. If it's any consolation, you're not the first adult child to endure this form of parental abuse. At least it sounds like you'll be able to control Mama by sending her for a "time out" every now and then.

Hey Joe, I don't think I'll hear any night time noises...
I don't have a spare room, but I do have a finished basement with a convertible sofabed. They'll be down there. On the other hand, they'll be hearing the furnace fire up, the hot water heater pumping, the hot tub cycling outside...hehehe. Payback..

__________________
LiGruess cara ~~~ Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"

i'm sorry to say it, but i'm glad that your parents are coming to visit you. it'll be good for them, if not so much for you.

you can adopt me for the week to run interference, if you'd like. i love little old italian americans. with a lot of politeness, a coupla compliments about their cooking and brick-laying accuracy, they love me right back. i'll even take them to church with me on sunday.

__________________
The next time someone asks what you did this past weekend, squint really hard and say, "Why, what did you hear?"

I think you should write a novel Vera when the visit is over. I really enjoy reading the posts, you give me the visual pictures. Have a good time and don't let them get on your wick too much - have a countdown card so you can mark off the hours left!

sounds like it might make a good sitcom for the food network.

keep a diary. you might at least get a magazine article out of it later.

i'm sorry to say it, but i'm glad that your parents are coming to visit you. it'll be good for them, if not so much for you.

you can adopt me for the week to run interference, if you'd like. i love little old italian americans. with a lot of politeness, a coupla compliments about their cooking and brick-laying accuracy, they love me right back. i'll even take them to church with me on sunday.

My parents lived in Lodi before they were married. When they knocked down a couple of old buildings on Main street about 30 years ago, my dad would drive into town late at night and steal bricks, one truck load at a time. The house I grew up in now has a very large living room with a floor to ceiling brick wall. In that wall is a fireplace large enough to roast a pig.. all compliments of Lodi brick. He learned how to do that from his father, my grandfather. There is a street named after my grandfather, off Market Street, called Bart Place. He built all the brick homes on that street. It's a cul de sac, if I remember correctly.